Love Story
by BlackMage3
Summary: When Gordo moved to NY to study at a movie-related high school, he promised he'd come back. Two years later still no word until....
1. Let Me Let Go

Disclaimer: I own nada. No characters in this one at all. I might add small one line characters later, but for now…  
  
A/N: Okay, I'm sorry about To The One Who Was There All Along, but for now, it's going on hiatus. Well, that's not entirely true. It's just not going to be updated *regularly* for a while. I will finish it, just be patient, please.  
  
A/N 2: I have read the book of the Lizzie McGuire Movie (I just HAD to know about Lizzie and Gordo) so I pretty much know the plot. So I've decided to take the stand that another Lizzie McGuire fan fiction writer took and steer clear of "later that summer…" fics for fear of giving something away. So this story takes place the summer of their sophomore year, and as if they didn't go to Rome.   
  
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"I talked to you the other day.  
Looks like you've made your escape.  
You put us behind, no matter how I try  
I can't do the same."  
  
-Faith Hill, Let Me Let Go  
  
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He promised he'd come back.   
  
I stared at the photo dejectedly, ran my fingers across his face. So many times on the phone, through e-mail, he'd assured me that his return was imminent. That I simply had to be patient.   
  
"Lizzie," he'd last written, "I know how you feel. It's hard not talking to my best friend for weeks at a time, but you've got to understand. This high school… It's all I ever wanted. They focus on directing, film, everything that pertains to ME."  
  
I understood, or if I didn't, I could pretend. After all, I was the only one who seemed to have a problem with his abrupt decision to attend a year of high school in New York. Well, it was supposed to be a year. Now it was the summer after 10th grade and there was still no real word on when he'd come back. He kept saying, "Soon."  
  
Of course, he'd said that last year too.  
  
"Why?!" I yelled aloud, now.   
  
The silence of my room mocked me. Miranda was in Mexico visiting family as had become a Sanchez tradition. I knew she felt bad leaving me, especially over the last two years, with Gordo gone.  
  
"It's alright," I had assured her, for the second year in a row. "Go, have fun. Who knows, this may be the year he comes back."  
  
She had nodded, but we both knew she didn't believe it. She almost never received anything from him anymore-just a card on her birthday. Even so, she didn't feel the loss I did. After all, for her, he was just a friend. For me he'd been something more for a while now.   
  
And silly, ridiculous me. I thought he'd felt it to. Shows how much I knew. After all, if he cared about me the way I cared about him… Certainly he would have stayed. God knows, I couldn't have ever left him. I could still remember the phone call, his voice gentle in my ear.  
  
"Hey, Lizzie," he'd greeted.   
  
I'd smiled. "Hey."  
  
"Listen, I have some news…"  
  
His voice had trailed away, and something inside me had seemed to close up, my heart darkened in fear. Somehow I knew. And when he'd uttered the words, "I have this opportunity… Lizzie, I can't give it up," something inside me died.  
  
I'd wanted to beg him to stay, but I couldn't. I'd loved him enough to step aside, to honestly want him to be happy.   
  
"Lizzie," my mom called to me from downstairs.  
  
I pounded down the steps and approached her. "Yeah?"  
  
"Come into the kitchen, honey. We're having family meeting."  
  
I did as requested, and slid into a seat across from my dad. I ignored the faces Matt was shooting in my direction and waited.  
  
"Lizzie, we know that you have been having some trouble over these last couple of summers without Miranda and Gordo-"  
  
I cut her off. "He's coming back."  
  
She nodded quickly. "Right. I know. But he's not here NOW. Anyway, your father and I were thinking that maybe you would want to fly out to Mexico and just spend the rest of the summer with Miranda."  
  
I leapt to my feet. "Oh, mom, really?!"  
  
She smiled and shared a look with my dad who added, "If you want to go, get packing. We're dropping you off at the airport in two hours."  
  
I was up the stairs just like that, and swiftly, I piled all my clothes into a suitcase. Finally, a summer that didn't leave me thinking nonstop about Gordo. And if he got back while I was away… Oh well. He could stand to wait for a while.   
  
***  
  
The airport was buzzing with people when we stepped inside. Excitement coursed through my veins for the first time, it seemed, in two full years.   
  
(A/N: Okay, I have been on exactly 4 planes, and to be honest, the airports are a kind of blur. So be patient with the lack of description, please.)  
  
I glanced around, then back at my parents. "You can't come in?" I found myself asking. Sixteen years old and I still couldn't go far without holding my parents' hands.  
  
My mom shook her head. "Airport security and all that." She looked like she was going to cry, and so I wrapped in her in a hug and held her tight.   
  
"I'll be fine," I whispered. "And I want you both to know," I added, drawing away, "how much this really means to me. Honestly, this is exactly what I need."  
  
Matt rolled his eyes.  
  
"Call us when you get there," my dad added.   
  
I nodded in confirmation and with one last, "I love you!" they were gone.  
  
The boarding didn't take long, and just like that I was on the plane. Somehow I lucked out with a window seat and I spend the long flight just staring outside. When we landed and I stepped back into an airport, I pulled at my ticket and read the information. My connecting flight gate wasn't too far off, so, carry-on in hand, I started on my way.   
  
A loud clap of thunder froze me in my spot and I shot a look outside through one of the airport windows. It wasn't raining, but I blinked in surprise and mild fear as a bolt of lightening lit up the room.   
  
A screen naming the flights was a few feet away so I, with about 15 other people, approached it quickly. All down the list, flights were delayed. I swallowed a moan and trudged to my gate waiting area.   
  
I was stuck in the O'Hare airport, alone for who knew how long? Immediately, I pulled out my cell and called my parents. They took it fairly well, and insisted I update them the minute I knew anything. I would, of course, but it didn't look like anyone was going to be forthcoming with information.   
  
"Do you think it's going to be more than an hour," I asked a nearby attendant.   
  
She smiled sympathetically. "I was just told that the wait will be at least that long. I'm sorry."  
  
I nodded and, with a smothered sigh, began looking around for an eatery. When my eyes rested on Cinnabon, I allowed myself a brief feeling of relief.   
  
The person in front of me gave their order in a deep masculine voice. "Just a coffee, please," he requested.   
  
And I suddenly couldn't feel my legs.   
  
"Gordo?" 


	2. I Didn't Ask and She Didn't Say

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Or anyone. Poor me….. L  
  
A/N: Wow, thanks guys for the great reviews.  
  
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"I was caught off guard,  
When I saw her face.   
Stumbled my way through an awkward embrace.  
And somehow I managed to say, 'Good to see you again.'"  
  
-Tim McGraw, I Didn't Ask, and She Didn't Say  
  
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He turned to face me, his eyebrows raised, an expression that I couldn't read placed carefully on his face.   
  
"Hey… Lizzie." He stood there silently, unmoving.   
  
I ignored the look I was being to identify as uncertainty and reached out to give my best friend a hug. Although he returned the embrace, it was awkward, as if he wasn't sure how his arms would wrap around my waist.  
  
He was the one that pulled his apart. "Good to see you," he said stiffly. I stared in mild disbelief.  
  
"Good to see you," I repeated, hoping that somehow I had misheard. I almost flipped when he nodded. "Gordo, we're best friends and we haven't seen each other in… well, too long. And all you can say is that it's good to see me?" My voice had begun to rise and by that point it was almost earsplitting.  
  
He shifted. "Well, it *is* good to see you." He took his coffee and stepped around me. "Listen, Lizzie, it's been real, but I really need to get ready to board the plane."  
  
I caught his arm. His coffee splashed and he frowned automatically. "All the flights are delayed for at least an hour," I informed him.  
  
"Oh." He smiled, but it didn't quiet reach his eyes and I had the strongest conviction that it was more than a little forced. "Well then, I guess it's time you and I sat down and talked for a while."  
  
"A suggestion I completely agree with."  
  
He lead us to a set of seats unoccupied and we sat simultaneously. "So…" He waited for me to begin the conversation.  
  
My heart ached to voice the question that I had been wondering for the longest time. 'Why didn't you ever come back?' But I couldn't do it. I finally settled for, "Where are you going from here?"  
  
He took a sip of his beverage, causing me to wonder when he'd gotten an affliction for coffee. "I'm on my way to California."  
  
My heart sped up. "To… Um… Hillridge?" It sank, however, when he shook his head.  
  
"No. There's a guy that goes to my school that spends his summers with his mom who lives in L.A."  
  
"And you're going to stay with him?"  
  
"I am."  
  
"I guess… I mean, you know, you being so close… you could stop by for a while, couldn't you? Just for a few days?" I allowed my voice to drop sadly. "I've missed you, Gordo."  
  
He looked down, as though unable to meet my eyes. "I just don't know if I can," he answered. "I mean, I'm so busy."  
  
"You're free enough to visit a friend from school."  
  
"Lizzie-"  
  
"Please?"  
  
It was the desperate expression in my eyes that finally caused him to relent. Sagging his shoulders he finally responded, "I'll try."  
  
"Good. So how's New York?" I was trying to fill into the role of best friend, but it wasn't easy. To try to be supportive over something I couldn't understand wasn't something I had a lot of experience with. When he'd been moved ahead to high school, I complained to Miranda frequently, inwardly begging for his swift return. Then, when he did, I promised myself that from that moment on, I would stand by him for the rest of my life-that I would put aside my selfish desires and put him first. And so far I had been doing the best I could through the e-mails, letters, and scattered phone calls. But to stand before him and fake a smile, ignore the pain in my heart… I wasn't sure I could do it.  
  
He set his drink down and a brief smile caused his eyes to brighten. "It's… great. You know, learning a lot. Made a lot of friends." His grin widened. "I'm actually, sort of, popular."  
  
"Wow." It was the only word I could voice.   
  
"Yeah. Who'd have guessed? David Gordon. Popular."   
  
"I would have," I answered, avoiding his eyes. "You're a great guy. Really nice, and funny, and smart, and…a great friend."  
  
A touch of sorrow laced his voice as he began, "Lizzie…"  
  
I raised my gaze. "Are you seeing anyone?"  
  
"No." The answer was short, but his eyes, deep and beautiful and *blue* seemed to speak volumes that his words did not.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
He shrugged, breaking contact.. "I don't know. I'm just… concentrating. On schoolwork and stuff."  
  
"Ahh."  
  
"What about you?"  
  
I laughed outright. What a ludicrous idea. As if I could even *think* about anyone else these days. "Yeah right."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
Wow, his hands must have been fascinating, the way he was staring at them.  
  
How to explain? I mean, I could go with honesty, and reply, "Well, it's just that I'm in love with you, and I'm not sure what to do about it."  
  
I settled for a borrowed phrase from Miranda, "It turns out Brad Pitt's married."  
  
He grinned, sincerely this time. "What, Ethan no longer the apple of your eye?"  
  
I thought of that attractive though vacant ex-object-of-my-affection for the first time in at least two years. I never saw him. But then, I rarely saw anyone that wasn't Miranda. When Gordo left, a part of me, the part that had enjoyed the company of others, left too.   
  
"He never really was."  
  
His eyes glassed over and I could tell he was remembering all the stunts I had pulled for a guy I had ended up describing as, "A hottie."  
  
Oh yeah. I was deep.  
  
"You never really liked Ethan," he questioned. "Funny, I seem to recall it differently."  
  
My cheeks went warm and self loathing filled my veins. There was pain in his voice. It was hard to forget Kate's words, though I had not seen any indication of his feelings for me since that party. Gordo had liked me, at one time. And how I must have hurt him, with all my dealings with Ethan.   
  
"Thank you," I found myself saying.  
  
He glanced up in surprise. "Whatever for?"  
  
I took a shaky breath. "For being the best friend a girl could ever want, or could think she wants. For standing by me. For helping me try to trap Ethan when-" I cut myself there and then continued. "For always loving me as a sister when there were days I totally disregarded your feelings, and Gordo I am so sorry."  
  
His bright blues were wide and confused and I knew that the time was right. I pulled a letter out of my back pocket and handed it to him, trembling. "This is for you." 


	3. What I Really Meant To Say

Disclaimer: Okay, I own *nothing.*  
  
A/N: This is the last chapter. I know, it's way short, but this one was always intended to have a quick ending. It was just a ficlet. If I had been thinking, I would have simply posted it all in one chapter. No matter. I hope you enjoyed it.  
  
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"What I really meant to say,  
  
Is I'm dying here inside.  
  
And I miss you more each day.  
  
There's not a night I haven't cried.  
  
And, baby, here's the truth,   
  
I'm still in love with you.  
  
Yeah…  
  
That's what I really meant to say."  
  
-Caroylne Johnson, What I Really Meant to Say  
  
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He took the envelope and slid it open.  
  
"I always carry it with me," I answered his unasked question.  
  
He pulled out the simple sheet and read it with questioning eyes. I knew what it said by heart.  
  
"Dear Gordo,  
  
My whole life, it seems, that you've been there. A part of me, a part of every instant of my life. Everything I have ever wanted has been wrapped up with you. I never wanted or needed anything that didn't have David Gordon carefully attached.  
  
Maybe I'm not being clear enough.  
  
I love you, Gordo.  
  
I love everything about you. The way your eyes narrow when you think I'm lying. Heck, the way you can always *tell* when I'm lying. The way you can make me laugh. The way you know, like, everything. And, God forgive me, I always have.  
  
I need you, Gordo. And I know that these words seem silly coming from the pen of an 8th (almost 9th) grader, but you need to know. So that we go on to high school, we are either LizzieandGordo, or Lizzie and Gordo.  
  
The choice is up to you.  
  
It always has been.  
  
Your Friend, or Maybe More,  
  
Lizzie."  
  
He looked up when he was through.  
  
"What is this?"  
  
I forced a smile. "It's what I was going to write in your yearbook. You know, I never got the chance because you left, but it was what I was going to write."  
  
His face was as red as the apple I had ate that morning. "Lizzie, I don' know what to say."  
  
Not the response I was looking for, but I'd take what I could get.  
  
"You don't have to say anything. I know you never felt the same way. But, the way things are going, I can't image that I'll ever see you again, and I wanted to… You know… Make sure it was clear."  
  
I studied my feet silently, just enjoying the feeling of knowing that I was standing there with my best friend. And the guy that I loved.  
  
"I should let you go," I said finally, unable to take the quiet for even an instant more. "It's looks like it's clearing up outside."  
  
He followed my gaze to the window and I could see the agreement cross his face.  
  
"Right then."  
  
"Wouldn't want you to miss your flight," I continued.  
  
"Why didn't you ever say anything?"  
  
"How was I supposed to? By the time I realized, you were about to leave."  
  
"I would have understood."  
  
"Like the last thing I wanted to hear you say was, 'I'm sorry, Lizzie,'" I snapped sarcastically.  
  
I had a point and he knew it. His bright blue eyes were clouded over with confusion, and… something else. Something that looked suspiciously like regret.  
  
"I should go," he said, but made no motion to move. We were, after all, sitting at *my* gate.  
  
"I hope you enjoy L.A.," I lied.  
  
"Where did you say you were going?"  
  
"I didn't. But to visit Miranda."  
  
He paled slightly at her name.  
  
"Miranda? It's been a long time since I've seen her."  
  
"Forget?"  
  
"Of course not."  
  
And, I supposed, he probably hadn't. But he was learning to. And maybe that was what this whole thing was about. Well, I'd make it easy for him.  
  
"It was good seeing you again." With that, I rose to my feet and turned away, moving closer to the information desk.   
  
I thought he had gone, as I stood there, silently observing the planes outside. That is, until I felt his hand rest on my shoulder.  
  
"Please leave me alone," I breathed.  
  
"I can't," he returned. And I turned to meet his eyes.  
  
"I'm so sorry I hurt you," he whispered.  
  
I shrugged, determined not to cry, not to get too caught up in the feelings surging my heart. He didn't love me. He never had. This was just guilt.  
  
"It doesn't matter."  
  
"Then why are you crying?" He brushed a tear from my cheek, and didn't remove his hand when he was finished.  
  
"Dust."  
  
He laughed, and maybe I did too. It was hard to tell. But with his laughter came himself, the Gordo that I had been missing for so long. And with IT, came the gratitude. The overwhelming, overpowering gratitude.  
  
"I loved you all along," he whispered, his face nearly inches from my own.   
  
"I hoped-"  
  
"I was too-"  
  
"I should have-"  
  
"If only-"  
  
I held up my hand to stop us both.  
  
"How about this," I suggested, smiling broadly and truly for the first time in years. "I love you too."  
  
And he kissed me and it didn't matter that in 20 minutes I'd have to board a plane in one direction and he in another. And it didn't matter that when he moved back two mouths later my father spent a full hour lecturing me on the importance of being in by curfew. And it didn't matter that Miranda refused to speak to him for a month, as punishment for being ignored (but when she forgave him, I reached a total peak of happiness). None of it mattered. Because I had my soul back.  
  
And I had never felt more joy. 


End file.
